


Tongue tied and twisted are all my memories

by Wobbel



Series: Transecting lines [2]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/F, Fluff, Forgive Me, Headworm continued, Hicsqueak, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Magical Pregnancy, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-21 02:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wobbel/pseuds/Wobbel
Summary: “So” Pippa put her tea cup down, the small clang rang through the sitting room, accompanied by the soft crackling of the fire and the ticking of the grandfather clock, which Pippa may have inherited from an actual grandfather.A crooked grin appeared on Pippa’s face. “You and me are going to have a baby.”Hecate had never dared imagine her own future as part of any type of family, either with or without children, always assuming she would spend the entirety of her life alone, as she deserved and the only way she thought she could be.“Can I try something?” Pippa’s voice was timid but the determination gleamed back out of her eyes. “It will be somewhat intimate.”
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Series: Transecting lines [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179086
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Tongue tied and twisted are all my memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my earlier headworm.  
> Hope it stands alone but it probably makes more sense if you've read the previous installment in the series.  
> All mistakes are mine and forgive me 😁
> 
> Title's from my all-time favourite song: Cruz by Christina Aguilera (co-writer Linda Perry).
> 
> Next installment will be the flashback to 'the night'.  
> And as it always does: scissors cuts paper.

“So” Pippa put her tea cup down, the small clang rang through the sitting room, accompanied by the soft crackling of the fire and the ticking of the grandfather clock, which the blonde may have inherited from an actual grandfather. Although it would not surprise Hecate if this was something she had searched for and at long last found at an antique shop or fair. The sounds of passing time had always calmed Pippa, brought her nervous energy down to a sizzle and quieted her wayward magic, when it was about ready to combust, not seeming to want to remain confined in Pippa’s modest frame.

As teenagers at the academy, Hecate had learned to recognize the signs of Pippa with excess energy that needed to be dispelled. Her eyes would get a sharp glint and her ears would turn a dark shade of pink, the muscles in her arms and legs would contract and relax in random intervals and her breathing would turn shallow and irregular. Hecate, always hyperaware of changes in the blonde next to her, would wordlessly take off her watch chain and hand it over, and Pippa, smiling shyly, would hold it to her ear or to her jaw or breastbone and let herself bask in the ceaseless ticking, almost instantly calmer.

Back then, Hecate did not have to think about what Pippa needed to make her feel better, she intuitively seemed to do the right thing. Pippa would be grateful and affectionate the rest of the day, sitting a little closer during lunch, brushing her fingers over Hecate’s hand for no particular reason, calling Hecate ‘her very _bestest_ friend’, sneaking ginger cookies out of the kitchens to bring to their study sessions. And Hecate would be even more confused, feel as if she were unworthy and unfit to be in Pippa’s presence. On nights like that, she would go to bed drained from repressing every urge to touch the blonde’s skin, every desire to brush Pippa’s hair back over her shoulder when it fell down over their books, every wish to linger after she leaned over to point to a nuance in the text because she loved the green apple scent of Pippa’s hair.

“Yes?” Hecate looked into her eyes. A tingling was still present on her lips from the kisses they had exchanged not ten minutes since and her ears still felt warm from their burning during said exchange. Her hands clasped the tea cup in her lap, the heat on her fingers a poor substitute for the warmth that she had felt through the fabric over Pippa’s hips. In her head there remained a feeling of dizziness, a flustering and utterly shook up sensation over the events of the evening, but Pippa’s gaze was soft as a balm appeasing Hecate’s muddled mind.

Never before or since she met Pippa had there been anyone with such an effect on her, such an enormous influence on her disposition. With only a glance the blonde witch could lift her up, calm her down, distract her or move her focus, enchant her, or include her in a shared insight. As adults, especially before they reconciled the first time, Hecate discovered that Pippa’s glares could also hurt, aggrieve and break her, making the blonde more genuine and Hecate never loved her any less for it. A flash of the look in Pippa’s eyes and the set of her mouth that night three months ago, right before Hecate’s willpower cracked and crumbled until she kissed her, kissed her and held her and did not let go until morning, and Hecate knew that night could never have come to pass any different than it did.

A crooked grin appeared on Pippa’s face. “You and me are going to have a baby.” A low, disbelieving laugh followed the statement, charmingly self-deprecating in only the way Pippa could make a laugh sound. “Never did I imagine I would ever say those words.” This utterly baffled Hecate. Pippa Pentangle, the kindest, biggest supporter of young wizards and witches, that founded a magic academy where all were welcome and all thrived, that invariably would give up all her free time to comfort, help and strengthen her charges, had never imagined becoming a mother herself? The utter remorse Hecate experienced for leaving Pippa again was pressed down and interchanged by the shame of forcing a possibly unwanted child on the blonde witch.

“You’re shocked, I can tell.” The grin morphed into something tender and wistful, Pippa’s eyes glassing over and her hand coming up to support her chin, elbow on the arm of her salmon coloured chair. “I do adore children and I love having the opportunity to guide and support them but to raise a child of one’s own is a completely different matter.” She focused her gaze back on Hecate, a hint of anxiety, of fear, shone out of them, but it was masked over quickly by a look of determination. Hecate suffered through a short internal manifestation of panic at realising that Pippa might be just as scared of the upcoming challenge as she was.

“When we were in school, I would sometimes imagine being a mother. I’d fantasise about you and me on picknicks with our kids, taking them to magic festivals and to Salem, teaching them spells and reciting the code. We’d both have children but there would never be wizards, or other witches for that matter, in my fantasies. I thought that was because these were the great unknowns in life, while I _knew_ you would always be there for me, _with_ me. After you’d left, well, it took me a while to get used to life without you. Most things returned but not these fantasies. Never again did I imagine being a mother and I assumed this was because I didn’t want to become one.”

Hecate had never dared imagine her own future as part of any type of family, either with or without children, always assuming she would spend the entirety of her life alone, as she deserved and the only way she thought she could be. She felt a certain kinship with Ada and the other teachers at Cackle’s, imagined them to be a community, even a coven at times, but never had she felt the connection she experienced with her grandmother and not even close to what she had with Pippa at school. Pippa was and would always be her family, whether they were on speaking terms or not, and Hecate would do anything for the blonde witch.

“I do not wish to imply in any way that this news has not made me thoroughly happy.” Another dazzling smile lit up her beautiful face and Hecate was humbled. This gorgeous, marvellous, accomplished witch loved _her_ , wanted to be with _her_ , raise a child with an obstinate, cantankerous and utterly oblivious witch of darkness. No words could describe how equally glad and frightened that thought made her, how her heart beat a staccato of anxiety and hope, how the bats in her belly flew up in her chest with joy only to subsequently dive and settle low in her stomach with dread.

Her attempt to return the brilliance of Pippa’s smile surely failed, coming out more as a grimace, fear shining out but the other witch, ever tender-hearted, only smiled brighter, warmth in her honey coloured eyes. Pippa puffed up her cheeks, a pink glow present on her cheekbones, and slowly exhaled. Hecate felt a shift in the blonde’s magic, a sudden uncertainty, and her own anxiety racked up. With every change in the other witch’s demeanour she expected to be turned out, to be asked to leave, to finally be confronted with Pippa’s ire, despite all evidence to the contrary.

“How have you been these months?” The question was asked offhand but Hecate could discern a hint of pain in the blonde’s voice. The self-hate she felt for hurting Pippa again was nothing new, a stabbing cold at the base of her spine, a familiar, almost welcome, sensation. This time, however, she had more to attempt to reconcile, not only had she suspended her friendship with Pippa but Hecate had also kept the blonde witch from her child, from an experience that would bring her joy. Pippa should not care about her health, her state of being, and certainly not forgive her.

“I’ve had no complaints.” Which was true. Besides tiring somewhat more easily and having an increased appetite, both of which could also be contributed to the approaching winter, Hecate hardly noted any consequences of her pregnancy. Counting herself lucky, as she had heard many stories of horrible morning sickness during the first months, she realised that did not mean anything, the ease of her first trimester would in no way simplify the further pregnancy. Both her mother and grandmother had passed away before Hecate could even think to become curious about pregnancies and child-birth, therefore what the coming months would bring was anyone’s guess. “That’s good.”

The signs were subtle but Hecate instantly noticed the upsurge of Pippa’s nerves, the twitching of fingers in her lap, the slow, rhythmic way she worked her jaw and the change in breathing, from low in her belly to high in her chest. She was going to have to work like a fury to regain the blonde’s trust, unquestionably harder than she had done after their initial recovery. Trying an open, comforting smile to convey her willingness to discuss anything, Hecate leaned forward and placed a hand on Pippa’s fingers. The other witch’s eyes shot up at her and she blew out the puff of air she had been holding.

“Have you seen a medi-witch yet?” Hecate shook her head as she sat back. “I thought you might wish to be included in any medical appointments?” She asked it timidly, not wanting to put Pippa on the spot. There was no need for her to be involved during the pregnancy but, if she wanted to mend her relationship with Pippa, Hecate would need to start trying to abstain from making those decisions for them both, by filling in Pippa’s desires. It would be difficult but she needed to start asking Pippa what she wanted, stop seeing her as the uncertain teenager always changing her mind, and believing her choices to reflect the truth. “Yes, I’d like that. Yes…”

Hecate had already thoroughly contemplated some of the practical aspects of her pregnancy; when and what she would discuss with Ada, during which months she would take maternity leave, when she would start training a supply witch to take over her classes. She had not dared to think about the changes in her life once the baby was born, both practical and emotional, finding that topic too precarious in general and particularly without knowing Pippa’s desired role in that life, although she had ascertained that, once the pregnancy ended, she’d need to permanently relinquish some of her teaching duties or step down as deputy headmistress, both equally undesirable options.

But being here with Pippa, confronted with her happiness at the news, at being involved, suddenly Hecate’s thoughts raced towards the future, a future with Pippa, as a family. And she hated herself for it, for Hecate did not deserve such a shining future, such a bright witch with such a light love. And Pippa deserved better, better than the witch she was currently stuck with, someone less ornery, less sour. The brilliance of Pippa’s luminescence should not have to be diminished in Hecate’s moonless night.

“Can I try something?” Pippa’s voice was timid but the determination gleamed back out of her eyes. “It will be somewhat intimate.” Hecate resisted the urge to chuckle at her words. As if they had not shared a most intimate night, the most private of interactions already, to result in this pregnancy. They had shared magic and pleasure and managed to create new life in the process. Then again, it had been three months since they had and Hecate appreciated the consideration Pippa showed for her personal boundaries. Squaring her shoulders, she shot Pippa a small half-smile and nodded.

With a casual wave of her hand, Pippa transformed the chair Hecate sat on in a long sofa, equally ostentatiously pink but similarly comfortable. She made her way over and sat next to Hecate, her body angled towards the dark-haired witch, one leg bent on the couch, a knee against Hecate’s hip. “Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable.” But this was Pippa. And Pippa never did make Hecate uncomfortable, only her own feelings would, her own thoughts and sometimes even her own actions.

She took Hecate’s hand and held it up, pressing the tabs of her fingers to Hecate’s, thumb to thumb and finger to finger. Her other hand came to rest on the fabric over Hecate’s belly, still flat now, and immediately a warmth started spreading through her stomach up to her chest. Another trickle of warmth dipped lower, to her centre, making her breath shudder and her thoughts spin. Were these hormones or was this Pippa? The blonde witch fixated her stare on Hecate, eyes focused and clear. “Ready?” Another jerky nod from Hecate and a timid smile from Pippa followed, before the latter closed her eyes and relaxed her features.

The rush of magic entering her body was generous and loving, flowing from the hand on her belly up through her chest and down her arms and her spine. It mixed with her own magic and the baby’s essence and flowed back to Pippa through their joined fingers. Like the tide their magic blend hurtled through her, reaching every extremity and filling every nerve until Hecate felt as if she was a vessel enshrining their newly formed family bond. Her senses dulled, no other stimuli were processed save the feel of Pippa’s warm hand and the comingling of magic within.

The sensation was utterly rapturous and enslaving, the mix of their three combined forces swirling through her chest and circling her spine, until, after a long while, it settled and a warmth radiated from a place behind her ribs where Hecate felt her heart beating. Lower in her belly she could feel the fast flutter of the baby’s heartbeat and a look at Pippa told her the blonde witch also sensed it, her face and mouth were set in utter euphoria, swaying back and forth, tears falling freely from her closed lids.

Hecate ended up utterly fatigued, panting slightly, and she noticed Pippa was in a similar state, mouth slightly open and breathing heavily. The opening of Pippa’s eyes revealed them to be wet and glossed over, a whispered ‘wow’ coming from her lips. She brought one hand up to cover the same place on her own chest where Hecate still felt the glowing warmth and left the other on Hecate’s belly, the baby’s heartbeat strong and steady. As Pippa’s eyes regained their focus, she delicately held Hecate’s gaze and gave a tender smile. “That was…”

 _Incredible_ , Hecate thought, as she wished she had the fortitude to utter the sentiment. “Marvellous!” The spark in Pippa’s eyes made her seem younger, a childlike bliss stealing over her face. She leaned forward to look Hecate in the eye. “How do you feel?” The blonde’s eyes emitting utter happiness and Hecate let herself get lost for a second, letting the world fall away, only being aware of the honey brown swirl. “Exhausted.”, sincerely hoping her smile would convey how little she minded.

Pippa laughed the tension away. “I bet you are.” Pivoting her back against the sofa, she sunk in and placed her head on Hecate’s shoulder, leaving her hand on Hecate's belly and placed Hecate's hand on top, lacing their fingers. Pippa’s hands were always warm and dry and soft, where Hecate’s were bony and calloused, often cold and clammy, which the blonde witch never seemed to mind. Not once in their friendship had she refrained from entwining their hands when one of them needed it, be it for support, affection or guidance.

A memory emerged from the start of spring in their third or fourth year. They had left the dark and dank library because Pippa was convinced the rays of the sun would help them soak up the required pages and pages of witching history. As usual, she had taken Hecate’s hand as soon as they left the castle and they walked close together and talking quietly, amongst groups of their school mates. It was the coughed ‘dyke’ by Dormaline Roost that made Hecate realise that their handholding had stopped being innocent and ordinary, as it had been when they were younger. She tensed and relaxed her hand but Pippa held on fast and turned to the other witch in a huff. “How oppressive of you, Dormaline.”

It had been quintessential Pippa; always protecting the persecuted, siding with the underdog, standing up with those that were being tormented for simply being who they were, and through it all she would still keep the peace, be the better person, by not insulting the persecutor in turn but by making them consider their own inclination. Hecate could not remember Dormaline’s immediate reaction to Pippa’s rebuttal, only that the older witch would eventually confide in the blonde about struggling with her own sexuality and her parents’ expectations, and became one of Hecate’s rare reformed tormenters. What eventually had become of Dormaline, Pippa probably knew, being sympathetic like that.

“Hecate?” The press of Pippa’s body was warm against her side and the sofa was soft and expertly supporting her back and neck. There was a very real chance of Hecate falling asleep in this position, something that would normally perturb her sense of decorum but, at the moment, did not. It must be the exhaustion, she argued to herself. Humming to let Pippa know she was listening, she snaked her arm around the blonde witch’s back and pressed her closer. Pippa shifted to lean more comfortably against her shoulder and sighed. “Happy birthday.”


End file.
